A column dedicated to great songs, old and new.
November 8, 2005
Written by Jimmy Webb
From Hot Buttered Soul, Enterprise Records, 1969
Written by Carlton Ridenhour, Cerwin Depper, Gary G-Wiz, Stuart Robertz,
and Neftali Santiago
From Apocalypse '91... The Enemy Strikes Black, Def Jam/CBS
Records, 1991
These two songs are tied together, musically, lyrically, and spiritually, by the inventively funky vision of the artists, and by both artists' commitment to civil rights. In 1969, after taking a break from music in the wake of his close friend Dr. Martin Luther King's death, Isaac "Ike" Hayes took a country/pop hit performed by Glen Campbell, and turned it into a striking, 18:40 soul-sermon about love and leaving. Twenty-two years later, Chuck D of Public Enemy (PE) borrowed the title of Isaac's tune, substituted a state for a city, and lit into that state's racially-charged refusal to acknowledge the holiday for Dr. King. Isaac Hayes and Public Enemy are both unabashedly funky, strong, cerebral-in-a-good-way, and multi-dimensional in their approach to conveying their desired message.
Hot Buttered Soul
Isaac Hayes
Hayes' version of "By the Time I Get to Phoenix" begins with a rock-solid ride cymbal, organ, and Isaac's stretched-out rap about the meaning of the song. He gives it an incredible back-story, expanding on Webb's emotionally detailed lyric. He also breaks into little melodic moans every now and then, but for the most part, he sustains a very compelling, spoken-word-only intro for about 9 minutes or so. Many old-school R&B songs have brief, spoken explanatory intros or interludes (e.g., the Chi-Lites' "Have You Seen Her?", Earth, Wind, and Fire's "All About Love", )—but Ike really shows off here, digging deep and coming up with a fascinating narrative to complement Webb's song. His "sermon" is packed with details about the protagonist's "love blindness", the woman's nonchalant emotional (and financial) exploitation of her man, sexual betrayal, and the dangers of mistaking a kind heart for weakness of character. Isaac's rap on this song was a very important influence on my approach to spoken-word; probably just as important as the years I spent playing drums for Gospel artists/choirs, and listening to exciting preachers. As a young songwriter, I absolutely loved the idea of a performer talking directly to the audience and providing a few more details about the story of a song. Anyone who has ever attended a p-tac show knows that this continues to play a part in our show.
Apocalypse '91... The Enemy Strikes Black
Public Enemy
Public Enemy's "By the Time I Get to Arizona", has a less personal agenda than "By the Time I Get to Phoenix." Chuck's lyrics detail his (allegorical) journey to the southwestern state to confront the governor about the King holiday (a controversial video accompanied the song's release). There's no doubt in my mind that Chuck D, ever the sonic post-modernist, gleaned a great deal of joy out of simultaneously paying tribute to Hayes' jam (and Webb's title) while also subverting it for his own powerful message. PE's song samples Mandrill's mindblowing "Two Sisters of Mystery", a thick-n-sick psychedelic-funk thing that pleases rhythm-fiends but probably frightens the hell out of people who don't like big beats and rumbly bass sounds. Over that groove, Chuck spits his lines, which have always had a unique, poetic vibe that goes beyond rhythmic rhyming. In this particular excerpt, Chuck (not too surprisingly) casts his impending confrontation of a hostile power structure in a prophetic light:
"So I pray
I pray everyday
I do and praise Jah the maker
Looking for culture
I got but not here
From Jah maker
Pushin' and shakin' the structure
Bringin' down the Babylon,
Hearin' the sucker
That makes it hard for the brown..."
It's almost impossible to describe how those lines, which read like they wouldn't flow at all, actually spill out of Chuck's mouth in a completely natural, listenable way, with that same sense of mission and authority which informs all of his best work. Chuck's delivery here, and the fact that the PE song so boldly references Hayes' song, reminds the listener of the tremendous importance of the Black American tradition of testifying and signifying; it's that same oral tradition of offering testimony and referencing earlier work which binds Isaac Hayes, Chuck D, and other tuned-in artists in a way that runs much deeper than clever turns of phrase, or well-placed samples.
Of course, Jimmy Webb (himself a preacher's son and no stranger to oral traditions) and his beautiful song are also central to all of this business. I've always loved the opening lyrics to "By the Time I Get to Phoenix", which paint a scenario that leaves you wanting to learn more:
"By the time I get to Phoenix, she'll be rising
She'll find the note I left hangin' on her door
She'll laugh when she reads the part that says I'm leavin'
'Cause I've left that girl so many times before..."
This is Webb at his best. His unique imagery ("Wichita Lineman", "Macarthur Park", "Up, Up, and Away") and master craftsmanship have influenced countless songwriters, and his work has also inspired thoughtful reflection by fellow artists and fans, as evidenced in Isaac Hayes' work. What's cool about all this is that in turn, Isaac and Chuck D's work then influenced other artists in the R&B/funk field, including myself. It's a kind of fitting complete circle for Webb, who received priceless songwriting training in the early Motown camp.
In 1992, a year after the release of Public Enemy's "By the Time I Get to Arizona", and 24 years after Isaac Hayes marched with King, the state of Arizona decided to join 44 other states in recognizing the holiday for Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
pcm
Purchase:
Hot Buttered Soul
at Amazon.com
at Tower
Records
Purchase:
Apocalypse '91... The Enemy Strikes Black
at Amazon.com
at Tower
Records